


Firsts (1/1)

by leashy_bebes



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, M/M, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-06
Updated: 2011-05-06
Packaged: 2017-11-01 17:13:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leashy_bebes/pseuds/leashy_bebes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Gwaine stumbles on the little village of Ealdor he plans to stay two nights. Maybe three. Except then there's Merlin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Firsts (1/1)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://eloquent-toast.livejournal.com/236549.html?thread=4232965#t4232965) prompt of first time Merlin gives a blowjob at the Merlin First Time Fest.

When Gwaine stumbles upon the little village of Ealdor all he wants is a place to get his head down for a while. He'd left the last town under a bit of a cloud, as usual, and all he intends to do is stay somewhere for a few days, maybe a week, before doubling back on himself and heading for King Olaf's lands, away from trouble. Or, more realistically, into a whole fresh batch of it.

As he's riding through the woods, cursing the map that promised a large town on this road some _five miles ago_ (and himself for buying said map from a drunk in a tavern – he never learns), Gwaine hears noises ahead of him and slows his horse to a walk. He slides from the saddle and leaves her tied up as he creeps forward, one hand on his sword. Instead of trouble, he finds a boy in his late teens doing – well, Gwaine doesn't know what, because the boy jerks around guiltily when he hears Gwaine approaching.

"Hello," Gwaine offers, relaxing his grip on the hilt of his sword.

The boy, all pretty blue eyes under messy dark hair looks at him warily for a moment and asks, "Are you a knight?"

Gwaine laughs. "Do I look like a knight?"

The boy shrugs. "Maybe?"

"Well, I'm not. Just a traveller seeking shelter a few nights."

The boy shifts on his feet and looks a little more closely at Gwaine. "Farmer Matthew sometimes lets people lodge above his barn."

"And who's Farmer Matthew?"

"My mother's friend," he says. "In Ealdor. It's only about a mile away. I'll show you if you like." His smile is warm and friendly, and it feels like a long time since anyone's first impression of Gwaine has been positive.

He smiles back and says, "Alright, thank you. I'm Gwaine."

"Merlin," the boy says, and he gets a faint wash of colour on his cheeks when Gwaine reaches out to shake his pale, long-fingered hand.

They loop back through the woods to find Gwaine's horse and head off for the village of Ealdor.

 

 

 

That night, up in the hayloft that will be his lodging for a few nights, Gwaine finds his mind wandering to the boy – _Merlin_ , he thinks. Pretty name for a shockingly pretty boy. He finds himself thinking of long slender limbs, bright blue eyes looking askance at the stories Gwaine told him as they walked along. Merlin's a sweet boy, funny, obviously caught up in the first itches of desire to go beyond the place he was born.

He's been on the road far too long, Gwaine tells himself ruefully, resettling his pack beneath his head. The next proper town he stops in will have a real tavern, lots of pretty girls, or at the least a half-decent whorehouse, he promises himself. And then there will be no need for inappropriate thoughts about innocent country boys a good five years younger than himself.

Still, he supposes there's no harm in noticing, nothing wrong with passing the lazy night time hours with one or two fantasies he never intends to fulfil.

 

 

 

The next morning finds Gwaine in the top field with Matthew's younger brother John, helping to replace a fence, the first part of repayment for his lodgings. The sun is high and the work not easy, driving stakes into the stony ground. When they have been at it for a few hours Gwaine straightens up and sees two boys approaching them. One of them is unmistakeably Merlin, too tall and lithe to be anyone else.

They're carrying waterskins and a bag of food. The look of surprise on John's face is enough to assure Gwaine that this isn't a regular occurrence. Merlin introduces his friend Will, and the two of them stay to eat and drink with him and John. Gwaine would have to be blind to miss the looks Merlin gives him from under his eyelashes, bashful and interested all at once. Gwaine could be in real trouble here.

 

 

 

That night there's no point pretending he isn't thinking of Merlin when he slides a hand into his breeches, imagining longer, more slender fingers instead of his own, thinking about pretty pink lips spread wide as bright blue eyes blink up at him.

When Gwaine's lying there with spunk cooling on his belly and hay prickling at his sides he thinks of the way Merlin touched him earlier, long fingers curling around Gwaine's wrist for no reason at all.

 

 

 

Gwaine prides himself on several things, not least of which is the ability to engineer a fairly rollicking party even in a one-lane village with no tavern.

It's dark and the fire's burning down when Merlin drops from nowhere to sit at Gwaine's side. Gwaine's been watching him all night, and he's not had more than two cups of ale, but he leans heavily against Gwaine and says,

"Tell me a story?"

Gwaine has had far more than two cups of ale, and that's the excuse he gives himself for steadying Merlin with an arm around his waist as he asks, "About what?"

Merlin tilts his head onto Gwaine's shoulder contemplatively and says, "Dragons."

"Never met one," Gwaine says. "Sorry."

"Aww." Merlin doesn't sound that disappointed. "Something else, then?"

So Gwaine turns his feet towards the fire and tells Merlin about taking a ship across the sea to distant lands, the duels he fought and brawls he escaped. Merlin laughs, sounding delighted, leaning over to steal Gwaine's ale.

Before long he's more nodding onto Gwaine's shoulder than just leaning against him, his words slurring around the edges.

"Come on," Gwaine tells him. "Let's get you home."

"I want to come with you," Merlin says, his arms clumsy around Gwaine's waist as Gwaine hauls him to his feet.

Gwaine laughs and sets his hand on the back of Merlin's neck. "I don't fancy your chances with the ladder."

Merlin laughs like he's never heard anything funnier and lets Gwaine steer him towards his mother's house. When they get there Gwaine untangles Merlin's arms from around him and gives him a gentle push towards the door.

"I want to come with you," Merlin says again, and he presses a soft, wet kiss to the angle of Gwaine's jaw, making a surprised noise at the stubble he encounters.

"Ah, God," Gwaine says, and he tilts Merlin's head, brushes his thumb over a high cheekbone that looks like it's been carved. Tempting though it might be, the boy is young, and Gwaine makes it a point never to bed anyone significantly more drunk than himself.

"Go inside, Merlin."

Merlin looks crestfallen.

 

 

 

He's expecting Merlin to avoid him the next day, expecting embarrassment. He stumbles out of the barn door imagining a cool drink and maybe a quick dip in the stream before he sees what jobs there are to be done around the little village today. Instead he gets Merlin. He looks terrible, as though he's just rolled out of bed and is already regretting it.

"Hello there," Gwaine offers.

"Hi." Merlin toes the ground and then blurts out, "I'm sorry about last night, I was drunk but I do really like you."

This can go one of two ways. If he laughs it off now, Merlin will go back to his mother or his little friend and maybe he'll still look at Gwaine a bit funny, but Gwaine will be moving on in a couple of days, and none of this will matter.

Instead he slings an arm around Merlin's shoulders and steers him away from the farm.

"Come on, you. What do people do for fun in Ealdor?"

 

 

 

What else do people do for fun anywhere in the country?

They end up in the woods, not far from where they met, trading kisses. Merlin is shy and eager by turns, climbing into Gwaine's lap and pulling at his hair, but he's always careful not to rest too much of his weight on Gwaine, to keep them just that little bit separate. Someone will be looking for one or both of them soon, if they're not already, but Merlin's perfectly lovely in his arms, their kisses turned warm and syrupy-soft.

When Gwaine palms Merlin's narrow hips and pulls him in closer, he realises why Merlin's been keeping his distance, feels the hard press of his dick.

Merlin gasps, "Sorry, sorry," and tries to pull away.

Gwaine laughs. "Merlin." He pulls Merlin's hand down between them, pressing it against the heavy proof of his own desire.

Merlin groans and says _oh-hh-hh_ around a long breath and then, "Can I see it?"

"Yes – yeah," Gwaine says and Merlin scrambles back, kneeling at Gwaine's side, like he doesn't want to go any further away than that. Gwaine fumbles his laces open and draws his cock out. He pretends he doesn't hear Merlin's little gasp, or the stifled moan that follows it.

He strokes himself a couple of times and then Merlin's asking, "Con I – oh God, _God_ , can I touch it?"

"Alright," Gwaine says and he leans back on his hands, nodding for Merlin to explore at his leisure.

Merlin bites his lip and his hands hover uncertainly for a moment before he fits one around Gwaine's cock, fingers settling into place one at a time. Gwaine holds his breath, letting it shudder out of him when Merlin moves his hand slowly.

"That's good," Gwaine tells him. Merlin flicks a glance up at him and smiles. The fingers of his other hand dances lazily over the waist of Gwaine's breeches before he pulls at them, touches bare skin instead.

Merlin licks his lip and says, "Take your shirt off." It's not quite a question and Gwaine nods, does as he's told while Merlin looks on with wide eyes.

"You're – wow," Merlin says, and it's worth a hundred of the more wordy compliments Gwaine's received over the years.

"C'mere," he tells Merlin, pulling at the ridiculous neckerchief. "I reckon you're probably pretty wow too. May I?"

"Oh – oh er, yes," Merlin says but he curses glumly when Gwaine touches the growing wet patch on his breeches.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Merlin says with a nervous little laugh. "Just thinking, I – I'll have to jump in the stream and tell my mum I fell in."

Gwaine stifles a laugh and kisses Merlin to shut him up but can't resist saying, "I'm sure she's more used to it than you'd like to imagine."

"I don't – don't usually wait this long," Merlin says.

"Well then," Gwaine says, pulling Merlin's breeches down. "Let's not make you wait any longer, eh?"

Merlin nods a bit desperately and Gwaine spreads his slim, pale thighs, kneeling between them.

"Very wow," he says, running his hands over those long legs, seeking to learn them in a single touch. Merlin's laugh is bashful but he doesn't try to close his legs, just bites his lip and looks up at Gwaine. His stare wavers a bit when Gwaine starts shuffling down his body, his eyes drifting closed a moment. Merlin's cock is like the rest of him, long, slender and pretty. And red, straining, eager.

Gwaine drags his stubble down Merlin's thigh and Merlin gasps, garbles something unrecognisable and Gwaine notices his hands hovering in the air, clutching at nothing.

"You can touch me, you know," Gwaine tells him.

"I – God – " Merlin grasps his shoulders and says, "Please, God, I – "

Gwaine relents, nuzzling around the base of Merlin's cock, lapping at the hot skin.

"That – oh, that feels really good."

Gwaine laughs and promises, "That's nothing."

Merlin moans when Gwaine fits his mouth around the head and slides down, taking Merlin in easily, almost to the root. Merlin arches wildly and Gwaine has to pull back just a bit. Before he can tell Merlin _calm down, deep breath_ , his hips are jerking up and he's breathing, again and again, _sorry, sorry, oh fuck, sorry_ as he comes. Gwaine, caught by surprise, barely manages to stroke him through it.

"Fuck," Merlin mutters, obviously embarrassed.

"It's alright," Gwaine promises and bends his head to lap at the streak of come painted across Merlin's softly concave belly.

"Oh God," Merlin says. "I'm sorry – "

"Merlin – "

He's beet red. "I'm _so_ sorry – "

"Merlin, really – "

"No, but your _hair_." Merlin sounds heartbroken.

Gwaine pushes his hair out of his face and promises, "I really don't care."

He tries licking at Merlin's cock again but at first he writhes and whines, obviously over-sensitive so Gwaine backs off a little, dropping kisses over his stomach and thighs instead. It's not too long before Merlin's fully hard again, protests all forgotten as he tries his damnedest to fuck Gwaine's mouth. Gwaine easily pins slim hips to the forest floor and takes his time, employing every weapon in his not-inconsiderable arsenal.

 

 

 

When Gwaine runs his finger – gently, so gently – between the cheeks of Merlin's arse he jolts and says, " _Oh_ – "

"No?"

"Nnn. Not no," Merlin says. "Just – never before."

Gwaine draws back enough to look at him seriously. "Just one finger," he promises. "It'll feel really good. Trust me?"

And of course he doesn't – or shouldn't – but Merlin nods like he means it and Gwaine wets his finger, runs it over that tight furl again, watching Merlin's eyes flutter closed. They snap open again when Gwaine pushes in and he says, _ah-ah-hhh_.

Gwaine kisses his thigh, sucks a little mark up high where no one will see and says, "Good, yes, come on, Merlin."

He's impossibly tight. _Sinfully_ tight. Gwaine wants Merlin's second orgasm to be as drawn out and maddening as his first was sudden, but he doesn't have it in him to tease Merlin the way he might an older man – if he goes on much longer, the boy will be _sobbing_ – so he swallows around Merlin, again, again, making it wet and messy, working his finger in an approximation of a fuck. Merlin's rocking up against it and his body clamps frantically around Gwaine's finger when he comes for a second time.

 

 

 

Merlin is silent for a long moment, his head tipped back, eyes closed, panting up at the sky. When he cracks an eye open to look at Gwaine a smile skitters across his face like sunshine.

"That," he says firmly, "Was amazing."

Gwaine's not sure what he's expecting next, but it certainly isn't for Merlin to push himself up on his hands and look at Gwaine's cock with frank appreciation. It's as though all of his shyness leeched out of him with his orgasm and he says, "You have _got_ to teach me how to do that."

Gwaine laughs and touches his fingers to Merlin's pretty mouth. "I think I could do that."

 

 

 

Merlin goes to his knees in front of Gwaine – his idea, Gwaine had intended to be flat on his back, let Merlin control it, but Merlin insisted that this was how he always thought about it and Gwaine's stomach had flipped with lust at the idea. He touches his finger to the underside of Gwaine's cock and Gwaine clutches at the tree behind him, rough bark crumbling under his fingertips. Merlin presses his closed mouth against Gwaine's shaft for a moment, like he's testing its hardness.

"What – " he says, his breath hot. "Tell me what to do."

Gwaine curls a lock of Merlin's hair around his finger and says, "Alright. Now you just open that lovely mouth for me."

And Merlin does it, soft shell-pink lips parting. His mouth looks red inside, and Gwaine says, "Okay. Okay."

He presses the head – just the head, slow – between Merlin's lips. The boy's bright blue eyes never waver from Gwaine's and all without prompting he wriggles his tongue against Gwaine's cock, a slick tickle. His fingers find Merlin's jaw and it's all he can do to be gentle. He pulls back out and Merlin – God, he actually _chases_ after Gwaine with his mouth, wanting it back, wanting more.

Gwaine gives it to him, feeling the soft slide of his tongue, a tiny bit deeper each time. And he feels guiltily aroused every time he presses between those soft lips because he is the first, the very first, the first to ever feel the hot wet inside of Merlin's mouth, the ripe softness of his tongue.

Merlin looks surprised by the taste, as though he was expecting so much worse. And then for the first time it's not just Gwaine sliding himself in and out, Merlin starts sucking. It's too hard at first and Gwaine hisses and tells him, "Gently, gently."

Merlin tries out different things, hard and soft, tight and relaxed circles with his lips and he seems so...interested. Exploratory. Fascinated with Gwaine's reactions, and his hands are always playing, feeling and caressing. It's perfect because it's not perfect, because of Merlin's mis-timed movements and the surprised pleasure on his face, like maybe he likes this more than he'd expected to. Merlin keeps overestimating himself, trying to take Gwaine in too deep and too fast, and he has to pull back, spluttering.

Gwaine runs his thumb gently over the soft skin under Merlin's eye and tells him, "Easy. Take it slow. Use your hand too if you want."

Merlin makes a noise of agreement that shoots right through Gwaine's dick, dragging a groan out of him and Merlin's eyes _light_ up at that.

"Gorgeous," Gwaine tells him, and Merlin pulls back, smiles up at him. When he takes Gwaine in again he licks all around the head of his cock first, hungry and keen, and Gwaine bites down on his fist, tipping his head back.

"Is – " Merlin's lips brush the head of his dick as he speaks and Gwaine swallows a cry. "Is that okay?"

"Merlin – _yes_ ," he says, and he winds his fingers into Merlin's hair, urges him back in.

Merlin's confidence is obviously increasing and – oh, _God_ , he could be good at this. He almost already is. His hand moves in a twisting motion around the base of Gwaine's dick and his mouth makes sweetly wet noises as he sucks. When Gwaine looks down at him he's all dark hair and lashes, the arch of his high cheekbones, the bright flash of his eyes when he looks up.

Given how much Merlin seemed to like it, Gwaine keeps up the heartfelt but increasingly incoherent compliments and praise. He can't keep his hands off Merlin's face, his wet lips, his long throat. Merlin murmurs happily as Gwaine tells him yes, yes, _yes_.

 

 

 

After he's come, after he's painted the proof of his pleasure over Merlin's lips, and across one delicate cheekbone, Gwaine lets himself slide down the tree he's leaning against, his legs splayed to either side of Merlin's knees. He pulls the boy in, kisses his soft, puffy mouth and feels Merlin's fingers curl hard into his upper arms. They breathe hard against each other and Gwaine thinks that maybe, maybe he will stay in Ealdor a little while longer.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Posted at LJ [here](http://leashy-bebes.livejournal.com/232816.html)


End file.
